


girl in black and white

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Harlots (TV)
Genre: Clothing, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 04:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14394609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: Violet likes Amelia in her clothes, and also out of them.





	girl in black and white

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alexandria (heartfullofelves)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartfullofelves/gifts).



Amelia’s clothes are drab. Black and white, hair entirely covered. To the touch, they aren’t even comfortable, the fabric worn but somehow still rough nonetheless. Violet hasn’t worn clothes like these since she first became a harlot, many years back now. They are funny to her. They are quaint.

This is how you undress Amelia: First, you take off her hat and cap, and run your hands through her hair. Violet likes to take a moment on this—Amelia’s hair is not thick, and it is somewhat matted, but it’s always covered so just being able to see and touch it is a novelty. Then you untie her apron and remove it. Underneath is her long black dress. It buttons down the front. Amelia at this point tries to do the buttons, so it is necessary to push her hands away, maybe push her against a wall and kiss her. Then Violet slides the dress off her shoulders, and there is only the shift underneath.

In her shift she is no different from a harlot, really, except her eyes and her nervousness and everything about her.

It is rare that a client undresses Violet slowly or really pauses to appreciate her body underneath. They like to get down to business—she plays it brassy so she attracts the customers who want a quick fuck. Maybe women like Charlotte and Lucy Wells or Emily Lacey get a slow undressing and sensual romance. Violet only gets that luxury once in a great while, and truthfully she never quite knows how to handle it. Makes her squirm a little bit. A man ought to get down to business.

Turns out, though, she’s like that herself. When she really likes someone. When she’s actually enjoying herself.

Amelia, who has never fucked a man, who will probably never take a client in an alley or a dirty bedroom (Violet hopes, and wonders why she hopes—it’s not that she thinks Amelia is too good for harlotry, no such thing really, she just…doesn’t like the thought) will never appreciate what it means that Violet takes her time. But she likes it. She isn’t like Violet; she doesn’t squirm. She seems to enjoy it too.

Violet likes Amelia in her shift or with her clothes off, lying in her bed or sitting on her lap. She’s lovely to see like that, nicer to touch. But she likes her with her clothes on too, looking like the preacher’s daughter she is. Drab, a little holier-than-thou, a little silly, but very Amelia even in her plainness. In that black dress and white apron she is a secret only Violet knows, and Violet has always been rather fond of secrets.


End file.
